


Do Not Disturb

by Whuffie



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:19:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whuffie/pseuds/Whuffie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathaniel comes home from a long trek and a battle in the Wending Wood.  Sigrun waits for him there with a pile of filched clothing.  A fluff drabble about Sigrun and Nate as a pair.  Slightly AU where Alistair is the Commander of the Grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Not Disturb

Nathaniel scraped the worst of the mud off his boots before going under the portcullis, but it was nearly as thick as a second sole on both boots. It was a poor job and as much as he enjoyed his long patrols into the Wending Wood, he was ready to be indoors. There was something to be said for a solid roof, hot meal, warm bath, and someone waiting for him.

Rain had seeped in between his leathers, aggravating the scrapes, bruises, and cuts which hadn’t finished healing. The altercation on the North Road had been worse than it should have been, but Fergus Cousland had walked away alive. So had Nathaniel. It was nothing less than a Howe would be expected to take care of, but they were badly outnumbered. Cunning was more important than brute strength, and he was fortunate it had been the elder brother rather than Reginald. Fergus had common sense. That was more than he could say for Fereden’s king, but Nathaniel had no time to spare worrying about the political stability or lack of it because of Bryce’s youngest son.

He hitched his stiff shoulder, shifting his bow over it, and tracked muddy footprints past the Commander’s office. Pausing to look in the open door, he didn’t see Alistair behind the desk, so continued upstairs to his quarters. The rogue part of himself cringed at the blatant tracks trailing in his wake, but he was too battered to put much thought into it.

Pushing the door to his quarters open, he carefully placed his grandfather’s bow in it’s place on a weapons rack, and noticed his tunics and shirts were all piled up in the middle of his bed.

Sigrun.

His amusement flashed so subtly across his grey eyes and mouth it was less tangible than smoke, but he was surprised at how tolerant he’d become of her. He didn’t need anyone, and was comfortable in his self sufficiency. That was his belief, at least, until the Grey Wardens. A proud and sometime private man, he didn’t always vocalize how the order had given him a place to belong, and in essence he’d gotten his home back. It wasn’t as he’d ever thought it would be, taking control of it as Arl when his father died, but he knew the Wardens need was greater. It was better that way, and his freedom allowed him to choose his own companions. Rendon would never have approved of a dwarf lover, but Nathaniel was nothing if not independently stubborn, in spite of his father’s long, ghostly shadow.

Another clod of mud plopped from his leathers as he took off the light scale. Once it had dried he’d sweep it out, but trying it now would only make things worse. Pragmatic, he was more concerned with the care of his equipment.

Did his pile of clothes just move? Freezing in place like an animal poised for fight, he stared as Sigrun popped her head out of the middle of them, sleepily looking around as a dark blue tunic tumbled over her pigtails. “There you are,” she chirped enthusiastically as she scrambled out of the nest of fabric which she’d made herself. Taking in his disheveled appearance and splash of dried blood across one cheek, she dangled her legs over the edge of the bed, lazily kicking her feet. “What happened?”

His clothes engulfed her, but Nathaniel didn’t comment or begrudge her one or two of his shirts. The one she’d currently chose had his family bear heraldry stitched on the front, and the irony of his earlier thoughts about Rendon weren’t lost on him. “There was some trouble on the North Road,” he told her succinctly, “but it’s been taken care of.”

“You would think tall people would learn to duck,” she quipped cheerfully, hopping down on her bare feet. The hem of his shirt nearly touched the ground as she closed the distance between them. The floors didn’t have the lava flow under them the way most of Orzammar did, and were colder than she was used to, but she didn’t have to worry about it for long.

Nate seized her beneath the arms, making her giggle, and he parked her on top of the desk so they could be face to face. “I am touched by my lady’s concern.” His voice was arid, deep, and very few people would have known that he was showing his own brand of ironic humor.

Sigrun squirmed pleasantly a little at the ‘my lady,’ then put her hand behind his hair when he leaned forward to kiss her in greeting. As always, he was as demanding as he was passionate, putting both hands on either side of her hips to bring her close and claim her as his. “You wouldn’t need it if you’d learn to dodge,” she teased as her bright blue eyes tipped up to stare affectionately into his.

“What I need,” he argued pleasantly, unbuttoning the front of her shirt, “is a hot bath and someone to scrub off the mud.”

“Oh?” she countered cheekily, and was scooped up against his chest. He lifted her into his arms as he kissed her with the heat of all the things he never put into words.

“Yes,” he told her with the authority she often gave him as a gift when they were intimate, allowing him dominance to please both of them. Working one hand free as she found a few places which weren’t dirty to kiss him, Nathaniel clicked the lock. With all the rogues blundering around the Keep, he shoved a chair beneath the latch as well.

They were not to be disturbed for a few hours by anyone, even the Commander.


End file.
